O Canada

{Vancouver in High Definition - From Kalamakia's Flickr photostream}

{Robson Street - From Wizard_of_Wonders' Flickr photostream}

I'm here in Vancouver, and this city is blowing my mind. I was surprised to find this is by far the most international city I have encountered. We're staying in the heart of downtown, so that may account for some of the multinational spirit, but everything is multiple languages and each person looks completely individual (race, manner of dress, personal expression via tattoos, piercings, dyed hair). I bought some Ritz cheese crackers at the nearest drug store, London Drug, and the flavor was "Vrai Cheddar" (French for "Real Cheddar"). Most of the store's snack food packaging was in French.

Vancouver embodies everything I love about the Northwest, with its subversive energy, art, music, color, gorgeous topography married with a real urban feeling... the list goes on. I'm in love.

I landed at 1 p.m. local time yesterday and wandered downtown amid the iconoclasts, bohemians and businesspeople. I ran across an Indian culture festival and a war protest. The Olympics will be here in February, and those five rings already adorn buildings and signs. On Robson Street, I ate a late lunch of sushi, then enjoyed a Boba tea with pearls while poking around in boutiques ranging from the quirky to the ultra-chic.

We drove from the airport through an island neighborhood called Granville Island. I hear that's a fun, funky place, but I doubt we'll have a chance to visit. I want to come back with Brad to explore for a week!

Francophilia

I have a serious problem.

A France problem.

A typical French cafe-bar, via Rita Crane's Flickr photostream (with beautiful, thoughtful descriptions)

Most of you know about my love affair with La Belle France, which began in 2006 when I studied abroad in Paris. Click here to read my Paris blog, which is pretty amazing if I can say that about my own writing. I returned from the City of Light and shortly after began dating the man I would marry, but I never forgot my first love. Never.

Moi in front of... well, you know. 2006.

Sometimes I miss Paris so much my heart. literally. hurts. It's a little sick, actually. Whenever I hear about someone else* loving Paris, I become extremely indignant, like I have some sense of ownership over the city. I feel like a jealous lover who has discovered some awful adultery. "You can't love France. She was mine first." ::: clench jaw and fists ::: No really, I recognize that this is not normal behavior.

*Disclaimer: These feelings do not apply to Stephanie, who discovered Paris with me, and Abby, who also studied abroad in France and whose love for the motherland is pure and sincere.

I have shed tears over the fact that I’m losing my grasp on the French language, in which I was conversational – even near fluent – just a short three years ago (“Il y a trois ans,” as I tell fellow Francophiles who ask me when I was last in France).

Well the sickness is worsening, and I have SMU to blame.

I mentioned in my last blog that I was beginning a contemporary art history course this summer. We’re barely out of Realism and I can feel my heart simultaneously breaking and bursting with joy each night I’m in class. I’ll catch myself in the middle of the lecture, sitting on the second row, my chin cupped in both hands, elbows on the table, grinning and looking cow-eyed at mon professeur as she romances me with words like “Courbet,” “Daumier,” “Musée d’Orsay,” and “Déjeuner sur l’herbe.”

Déjeuner sur l’herbe, oil on canvas, 1863

Last night she said, “Those of you who know Paris well know that the book- and print-sellers even line the streets of the city.”

It was all I could do to keep myself from exclaiming, “Oui, je les connais! Les bouquinistes!”

Le sighhhh…

My second trip to Paris, 2006... Making a fool of myself in front of the Louvre.

I’m craving all things French. Carambars, le Métro, watching American movies with French subtitles in St.-Germain-des-Pres, drinking wine out of a baby bottle at Le Refuge des Fondues in Montmartre… I even tried to French braid my hair this morning, with less than spectacular results.

A classmate and I are pondering Monet's genius at his home of Giverny.

Brad’s company is treating us to a Mediterranean cruise in October, and we plan to stay an extra week to explore Morocco, which I have never visited before, or Paris, which has my heart. Morocco sounds sexy and exotic, and I would love to add Africa to the list of continents I have visited… but today I’m leaning toward Paris.

Crazy Eights

In March 2007, Brad and I boarded a flight to Seattle, where he planned to propose to me. We sat on row 8 of our plane. At the time, Brad – a math and science guy – was very interested in the biblical significance of numbers, and I asked him if the number 8 meant anything. He told me that in God’s word, the number 8 is often used to signify a new beginning… which ended up being exactly what that trip was for our relationship. :-)

How very appropriate that as we begin a new year, I was tagged by Martha to talk about a series of eight things. Here we go!

8 TV SHOWS I WATCH
1. LOST
2. Top Chef
3. Project Runway
4. Mad Men
5. Barefoot Contessa
6. Passport to Europe/ Rick Steves’ Europe
7. The Office
8. 30 Rock
9. House

I watch too much TV! I know I added two extra, and I could probably think of 10 more shows to add to this list.

8 FAVORITE RESTAURANTS
There are SO many, but these were the first that came to mind:
1. Texas de Brazil (Dallas – special occasion place for carnivores)
2. Los Barrios (San Antonio – cheese enchiladas and margaritas!)
3. Longhorn Café (San Antonio – best greasy cheeseburgers on the planet)
4. Black Friar Pub (Dallas - cheese fries and beer!)
5. Toulouse (Dallas – so French, with delicious foie gras)
6. Trudy’s (Austin – great memories)
7. Café Madrid (Dallas – tapas)
8. Deep Sushi (Dallas – Deep Ellum)

Honorable mention goes to Grimaldi’s in Dallas for the coal oven-fired meatball pizza I had a couple of weeks ago and haven’t been able to stop thinking about!

8 THINGS THAT HAPPENED TODAY
1. Woke up too early on a day off (Happy birthday, Dr. King!) when one of Brad’s colleagues telephoned him at the crack of dawn.
2. Ate mom’s sugar cookies for breakfast, then felt compelled to go on a speedwalk/ run with Brad and my hand weights.
3. Scoured the house for garage sale items and amassed them in the formal living room (it never gets used anyway!)
4. Enjoyed vegetarian platter at Fadi’s Mediterranean Grill with Brad.
5. Bought a tea table and a new console table at World Market.
6. Re-wired entertainment center (around our house, Brad builds things and keeps up the outside, but I do the electronics), then tidied up.
7. Shopped for rugs online and determined I had already spent too much money on home stuff for the day.
8. Practiced shooting the Walther PPS.

Veggie Platter from Fadi's

8 THINGS I LOOK FORWARD TO
1. Toning up my arms before Matt and Brittney’s wedding on May 2!
2. Starting grad school this week… and finishing it in two or three years. :-)
3. Going on a Mediterranean cruise in October 2009.
4. Being a mom someday.
5. Finding a new home and getting new furniture.
6. The rest of my life with Brad (too corny?).
7. Meeting up with my Kindred and her hubs on their year-long sojourn.
8. Retirement. Is that a bad sign?

8 THINGS I WISH FOR
I think I answered this in the last question, no? Maybe the question here refers to material things? If that’s the case, I feel a little materialistic answering… but this is Dallas, so here goes:
1. Mortar and pestle
2. Slicing tools – a rasp for zesting citrus and a mandoline
3. Meat thermometer
4. A really nice camera, and the skills to use it
5. Hermès Kelly Bag
6. Apple laptop (mine got stolen, and Brad uses the Mac we replaced it with for his work)
7. New house or apartment (long story)
8. Chanel perfume (I love her, and the scents are quintessential France)

I also wish Brad and I could move to Paris.

8 SONGS I JUST LISTENED TO
That would be the Slumdog Millionaire soundtrack. Amazing movie, if you haven’t seen it, and equally good soundtrack! It awakens the Indian belly dancer in me and makes me “shimmy,” a la Fit TV.

8 MOVIES I LOVE
Well, aside from the aforementioned Slumdog:

1. The Diving Bell and the Butterfly (Le Scaphondre et Le Papillon, en français)
2. There Will Be Blood
3. No Country for Old Men
4. Sabrina
5. Beauty and the Beast
6. Any movies by Wes Anderson or Christopher Guest
7. Amadeus
8. When Harry Met Sally

I’m desperate to see Revolutionary Road! Have any of you seen it?

8 PEOPLE I TAG
No pressure. These taggings are good for me, because otherwise I probably wouldn’t have blogged for another week and this is good motivation... but I realize not everyone wants to let me tell them what to write. Don’t feel obligated, but I tag my friendly bloggers to write on these same topics whenever they're lacking motivation for original content:

1. Abby
2. Alison
3. Erin
4. Janette
5. Jashley
6. Jennifer
7. Meagan
8. Stephanie

Honest to Goodness

My wonderful and much lauded cousin Martha nominated me for the Honest Scrap blogger award! Read her list here. I don’t have her gift for brevity, so please bear with me on this long post as I list for you “10 honest things about me that you possibly do not know.” And make sure you read to the end, because I may have nominated YOU for the same task!

1. I am a wannabe vegan radical. For some reason I fancy myself a total earth mother, who makes frosting with arrowroot powder and agave nectar and coconut milk instead of butter and sugar (like this blogger does), advocates fair trade and lives super sustainably by making my own clothes and recycling my toilet water and maintaining a compost pile. But alas, I’m just not. Texas de Brazil is my idea of a special occasion dinner, and that’s as un-green and anti-vegan as it gets. I do want to live in a teeny tiny energy-efficient home, and to really serve others in my community. I just ordered a book on Amazon called Irresistible Revolution, and I think it’s going to help me figure out how I can live like a radical in my everyday Jesus-loving life. I’m pumped.
2. I was an overachiever in high school. I was vice president of student council, president of the National Honor Society, a National Merit Scholar Finalist, member of Thespian Society, member of Quill and Scroll, Varsity cheerleader (I quit before my junior year), yearbook editor, newspaper editor, even a member of the vocabulary club! And I’m sure I’m leaving stuff out.

A SACS Lion from age 5

While I don’t look back on those days wistfully (as in, “those were the days”), I do have good memories of high school. On the other hand, part of me wishes I had done less, because I kind of got burned out for college involvement. And on that note…

3. I love the University of Texas and will forever bleed burnt orange, but I don’t think I had an authentic college experience. I graduated early, and didn’t get involved in much except Communications Council (for one year), a student magazine and a free speech group. I also got involved with my church, but not until pretty late in the game. And I worked all through college, so that limited my ability to do a lot. However, God allowed me to have an amazing friend-for-life roommate in college, so I’m grateful for that. I graduated with highest honors, but I regret not taking full advantage of those rare years of being an undergrad.

Me and some of my favorite Longhorns :-)

These next few kind of go together…

4. I sometimes wonder what life would be like if I were still single. Don’t misunderstand me – I’m so GLAD to go through life with Brad, and I don’t regret marrying him for a second. I want to be really clear about that. I thank God every day for him, and for orchestrating everything about our meeting, dating, engagement and marriage the way He did. One of my top goals in life is to be an amazing wife to Bradford. My point is, I always thought I’d be at least 30 before I got married, but I met the man of my dreams at age 20! Just for the sake of curiosity, I sometimes think about what life would be like if I were in Paris and working as a journalist, or living in North Africa and working as a Peace Corps volunteer. Truth is, I’d probably still be right where I am, doing exactly what I’m doing. But it’s funny.

"So happy togetherrrr..."

5. I want babies sooner than four years from now (but I’m going to wait). Brad and I adopted the “five year plan” when we got married. We want to travel the world and finish grad school before other obligations enter the picture. I’m totally committed to the five year plan, but I have a twinkle in my eye for my babies. I can’t wait to meet them someday (Oct. 2012! Ha!).

6. I think Jesus is going to come back before I have kids. Maybe it’s the Christian school influence, but I have ALWAYS thought the second coming of Christ would happen before the next big milestone. I remember being in first grade, and Mrs. McGann told my class that in third grade we get to take achievement tests. I remember thinking “Third grade?! That’s so far away! Jesus will definitely come back before then.” We also lived near the airport growing up, and any time I heard the roar of a plane taking off, I thought it was the rapture. I thought Jesus would come back before I got married, and now I think Jesus will come back before I have kids.

7. Sometimes I want to move back to San Antonio. As much as I’d like to think I’ve got my stuff together up here in Dallas, visits to San Antonio and Boerne make me remember how much I miss my friends and family. It will probably get worse once baby Gaultneys enter the picture, but I know the Lord has us here for a reason, and we have commitments in Dallas that will keep us here for several more years. I really do love Dallas, and I’ve made amazing friends here… I just wish it weren’t a five-hour drive to “home.”

A dreamy picture of SA's Riverwalk, which I have visited probably three times in my life.

8. I have a long memory, sometimes to a fault. The good news is, I will NEVER forget your birthday. If you ask me to pray for something, I will NOT forget to lift you up. However, it also means I know which of Brad’s Corps buddies came to our wedding and didn’t give us a gift. And it means if you ever gave me a backwards compliment, I made a mental note. I hate that about me. Oh well.

9. I’m jealous of blondes. Gah, who knows why this is? Some of my very dearest friends are blonde (Sharkie, Dubey-Lew, Meago, Meggo, just to name a few), and I don’t have any problems with them at all, but other than that, I have this weird jealousy of blondes. Maybe it’s because there really is some buy-in to the “blondes have more fun,” adage, especially in Texas. But I’ve made it clear to Brad that he is not allowed to think blondes are pretty. I understand him saying that Anne Hathaway is attractive, because good night, I even think she’s a sex monster. But Kate Hudson? Carrie Underwood? That girl who dances on the table in the Bacardi Mojito commercial? NO. Not allowed.

Screen shot of the infamous Bacardi Mojito commercial

10. I’m actually really shy. That surprises some people. But yes, I’m a definite introvert, and most of the time I’d rather read a book or watch Bravo TV at home than go to a party.

So now I would like to take a moment to pass the torch to some of my fellow bloggers (including a blonde): Abby, Meagan and Stephanie. I’m tagging you because I love you and can’t wait to see the 10 things you’ll write about. :-) Now get bloggin’!

Restlessness (Warning: Long Post)

I’ve had this unsettled feeling in my heart now for several months. Like I want to move to Seattle, or maybe just Dallas’ Bishop Arts District; or go to grad school (more on that later); or start discipling middle school girls; or dye my hair fuchsia. Or buy a 9 mm and take concealed-carry classes (Oh wait, I’m already doing that. No seriously, I am.). Or maybe come home one day with my body all painted in henna paint à la Indian weddings.


So I think about all of these things but I still have this RESTLESS spirit, so much so that when I think about it my heart literally hurts. Like an aching for someone or something that I can’t identify. Like I'm grieving for something, really. It's not a depression, just a sense of loss over something I don't even understand. Talk about a state of confusion.

So I’ve prayed. Praying without knowing what you're asking for is hard, and even harder when you think you’re not hearing anything back. I have felt like the woman in Song of Solomon who searches for her lover but can’t find him.

I opened for my lover, but my lover had left; he was gone. My heart sank at his departure. I looked for him but did not find him. I called him but he did not answer. (SoS 5:6)

And it occurred to me… I’m not serving. I feel most alive in Christ when I’m serving him, and my top spiritual gifts are service and pastor/ shepherding. Maybe my lack of service is what’s causing this weird friction in my spirit. But what to do with this knowledge?

I sought godly counsel from an awesome, life-loving, astoundingly wise friend, who by the grace of God is also family. We’ll call her “Martha.” So Martha, irreverent as she may be, sat down with me over yummy, thin crust, European-style pizza yesterday in Southlake, and we cussed (a little :-), laughed about smoking on the sly, talked about motherhood (her) and future motherhood (me), and generally just had a mini heart-to-heart. Then I came out with it. “Martha,” I said. “What’s going on with me?” I gave her the back story, and she was blunt, as I hoped she would be (I’m paraphrasing):

“Hello? Did you ever think that this restlessness could be the way God is speaking to you, that he's trying to tell you to act on those sneaking suspicions?”

O-M-Goodness. No. Really, no. How could I not have realized that I wasn't just feeling crazy for the sake of crazy... He may be making me feel that way because I'm still not acting on his promptings. I didn’t consider that the Lord was trying to get my attention or affirm the longings of my heart by this aching feeling. But that makes SO much sense. ::: slaps forehead ::: Doh.

She had a lot more truth to speak to me, and I’m not giving her enough credit for her invaluable counseling abilities and insight, but I left feeling really validated – not only validated, but justified – over some of the nutty ideas that have been swirling. My heart and my head are still having a cage match with each other, and I have a lot of thinking to do, but today I really do feel a little bit better. I need to be in the Word for a while, and let some things marinate, but I think I can tell you more later.

I’m deeply grateful for Martha.

And for Brad, who encouraged me to apply for grad school, which I’ll be starting Jan. 22! It’s a professional program (code language for “I’m not quitting my job to go to school, don’t worry”), and I expect to go two nights a week. It’s funny how God works… in the middle of this season of spiritual frustration, I had to register for classes. I’m in a Master of Liberal Studies program, which will allow me to focus on art, French and writing (or as I call them, The Holy Trinity of Katie). But for this first semester, I wanted to have the same schedule as Brad so that we can carpool and spend an extra hour together a day during a time when we otherwise might not see each other a lot.

Well, I had to take a couple of required courses for my first semester, and the only other class that fit with the schedule wasn’t anything that fell into the aforementioned Trinity; it was a theology class.

Theology? Okay. I love Jesus, but theology is really Brad’s thing. I like Beth Moore and Max Lucado and John Piper… but theology?! But I clicked “register” and I’m in. And I have to wonder if God isn’t planning on teaching me something really significant through this course, which is called “The Spiritual Vision of Jesus.”

Think service might be a part of that vision?

Tu t'amuse.

Stumbled across this brilliant video that anyone who depended on Babelfish (or Google Translate, etc.) while learning a language can appreciate.

These people wrote a script for a brief (3 minute) film. Then they translated the text FROM English, TO French, then TO German... then back TO French, and back to English. The result is hilarious! You need to read the "subtitles" while listening to the actors... Enjoy!

(Favorite line: "I was put in failuuuure.")

Ode to Fro-Yo

I’m trying to listen to my body more. In the same way that pregnant women get telltale signs of vitamin deficiencies by their cravings – like women with iron deficiencies may crave chalk, dirt or even laundry detergent (a condition called pica) – I’m trying to train myself to listen to my body’s cues in terms of ways I should adjust my diet.

Some girls crave breadsticks or cake or donuts. None of those things really tempt me. I always tend to crave red meat and cheese. But for the past couple of weeks, I’ve been craving yogurt! I think it’s because I don’t get enough calcium, and all the women in my family end up with osteoporosis. My mom has osteopenia right now, the precursor to osteoporosis, and she’s still quite young!

(It may just be an old wives' tale that cravings signal a nutritional need, but as long as my stomach/ brain are prompting me to eat healthy things, I'll listen!)

I went to the doctor on Monday and asked him what he thinks about probiotics. I’ve been hearing so much about them lately and how they’re just healthy body miracle-workers, and I wondered if I should pick up powder or something from GNC. He said he believes in them, but that the yogurts that have probiotics in them (Activia, DanActive, etc.) are just as good as the powders and pills.

So yesterday I went to Wal-Mart and went on a yogurt-buying spree!



My love for yogurt began in France, where my French family had a serving after dinner each night. Click here to read my blog post about French people and yogurt.

Then, during Stephanie’s Dallas visit this spring, we happened upon an old-school frozen yogurt (fro-yo) place, Natsumi. I guess old-school isn’t really the right word. Its contemporary interior with white leather Barcelona chairs, concrete floors and Calypso blue accent wall makes it very up-to-date. But the yogurt pays tribute to the way frozen yogurt is SUPPOSED to taste – not like sorbet, not like light ice cream – but like yogurt! It has a sweet but tart taste, it’s fat free, and it has those live active cultures that are good for you!

In the spirit of Natsumi (or Pinkberry, OrangeCup, or whichever fro-yo purveyor you prefer), I decided to make my own frozen yogurt last night. I took two containers of the plain Greek yogurt my grocery store carries – about six cups – and to it I added one part Splenda and one part sugar, about three-fourths of a cup each (1.5 cups total). Then I added a little bit of vanilla extract, maybe a teaspoon and a half, poured it into my ice cream machine and let ‘er rip for about 25 minutes.

The result: even BETTER yogurt than Natsumi! It came out of the ice cream machine with perfect consistency, but after storing it in the freezer overnight, it was a little too hard this morning. In fact, I had to let it thaw for about 45 minutes before it was scoopable.

Here’s my breakfast: fat-free, low-sugar vanilla frozen yogurt with blueberries on top. :-)

Dipping the Big Toe

I’ve decided to give it another try. I’m not prepared to guarantee a high dive, cannonball, or even a belly flop, for that matter… but I am going to dip my feet in the water once again. Yes, I’m going to resume the blog.

I have to admit, I should credit much of my little foray to the good-natured “prodding” of many of my former faithful readers (Meagan and Abby, to name a couple), who hold the fact that they’ve linked their blogs to mine as leverage over me.

By most accounts, I don’t have a lot of exciting material to blog about right now. No extended trips to Paris in my future, like the adventure I chronicled in my first blog. I’ve been married for just shy of a year now, so no wedding planning to kvetch and kvell over. I bought my first house well over a year ago now, and I can firmly state that there are NO plans for babies in my future. When so little is “happening,” what is there to write about?

In fact, I have plenty of anxiety, enthusiasm, and just plain curiosity over where I am in life now. I can’t really put my finger on it, other than to say that I’m going through a sort of frenzied respite… A sort of “sitting down on the inside,” a state of coming to peace with who my Creator has made me – not for the sake of others’ approval, not even for my own satisfaction… just being “me” because God designed me. I’m not after the award for funkiest bohemian, most Stepford-esque newlywed, or any other mantle I may have consciously or unconsciously sought not long ago. I’m just getting used to really being.

Change is a constant theme in my postings, and indeed, so much has changed over the past 18 months. I don’t have to tell you all the ways my life looks different now than it did just a year and a half ago. God is good, so good. And he’s enriched my life extravagantly. I’m truly on the verge of contentment… strange.

But that doesn’t mean I’ve learned how to sit still, or that my postings from now on are going to be treatises on “boring.” I’m just figuring out this whole adulthood thing, and that, to me, is an adventure.

• I still daydream about what the future holds.
• I still have a persistent case of wanderlust. I want to live in France, Morocco, Costa Rica, Seattle…
• I want to write children’s books and create something every day (a painting, a tray of cupcakes, a blog post).
• I want to truly love my husband selflessly and become a woman who honors God with her body and her life, and inspires others to godliness.
  

I’ve got a long way to go, and I hope through this blog you’ll help me chart my progress. Thanks for reading. Here we go again.